


V is for Visitor

by Janieshi



Series: Alphabet [22]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship, Hair Braiding, Male-Female Friendship, Relationship Advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieshi/pseuds/Janieshi
Summary: In which Mustang crashes girl's night and offers some much-needed perspective on Catalina's latest relationship troubles.





	V is for Visitor

_Visitor /_ _ˈvizidər/noun – a person who comes to spend time with or to stay with others, for reasons of business, duty, or social pleasure._

* * *

She didn’t answer her door right away, and Colonel Mustang began to wonder whether she was home at all. Perhaps it had been a bit presumptuous to assume she’d be free…surely she had a social life outside of work, and it’s not as though she was required to tell _him_ all of her plans.

Right as he made up his mind to leave, the door opened, and suddenly Lieutenant Hawkeye was standing there with a bottle of wine in her hand and a look of polite enquiry on her face.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant, I didn’t realize you were expecting company,” Mustang frowned, taking note of the wine bottle, the cascade of blonde hair tumbling loose over her shoulders, and the warm glow of candles in the living room behind her.

Hawkeye smiled at him.

“I’m not,” she said.

“Oh?”  

“My visitor is already here,” she explained, stepping back slightly to allow him to pass. Roy’s feet moved forward automatically, before his brain had processed the meaning of her words. 

Already _here_?

“Who’s at the door, Ri?” asked a familiar voice. Roy startled slightly, and was met with Catalina’s disdainful smirk. “Oh, it’s _you_ ,” she said.

“Sergeant,” he said, caught a little off-guard. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” she said loftily. “What’s your excuse?”

“Rebecca,” Hawkeye said, the barest hint of censure in her tone. Catalina sighed theatrically.

“What’s your excuse, _sir_?” she amended.

Hawkeye closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, but she couldn’t quite prevent the amused quirk of her lips. Catalina took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at Mustang, who responded with his most charming smile.

“I could smell Hawkeye’s famous beef stew all the way across town,” he lied, sniffing the air hopefully. “I assume my senses haven’t led me wrong?”

“So you came scratching at the door to be fed?” Rebecca asked, incredulous. “Like a stray cat?”

Slightly abashed, Mustang decided to ignore her entirely, and turned back to face his Lieutenant.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. My usual Thursday date cancelled on me, and I’d hoped to persuade you into coming out with me instead,” he explained. “I should’ve called first; I apologize.” 

“Your usual _date_?” Rebecca echoed, somewhat shrilly.

“He means his sisters, Rebecca, don’t claw his eyes out just yet,” Riza admonished gently. Rebecca’s ire vanished almost instantly. “Would you like to join us, sir?” Riza went on. “There’s still plenty of stew left; I made a double batch.”

“And I brought cupcakes,” Rebecca added, surprising Mustang yet again. Was she gloating, or…was she seconding Riza’s invitation?  Although their relationship had always been chiefly comprised of scathing insults gleefully lobbed at each other the second Riza’s back was turned, Mustang genuinely liked Catalina. He’d just assumed that feeling would never be mutual. Her habitual animosity made it clear that she only tolerated him for Riza’s sake, even if the reverse was no longer quite true. But maybe…

“You baked?” he asked, to cover his shock. Rebecca snorted loudly.

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “I stopped at a nice bakery, though, and they do this red velvet with buttercream frosting that is just to DIE for. Or there’s some lemon ones, too, if you’d rather.”

“I...are you sure I wouldn’t be interrupting?” Roy hesitated. He wanted to stay, badly, but he also felt guilty for intruding on one of their rare girls’ nights.

“Not at all,” Riza said. “Unexpected doesn’t mean unwelcome,” she started to insist.

“You can only stay on _one_ condition!” Rebecca interrupted, jabbing a slim index finger in the air only inches away from Mustang’s face. “I came to cry on my best friend’s shoulder about my boy troubles, and I intend to do just that!” she said. “Is that gonna be an issue for you?”

“Catalina, I know I’ve mentioned the multitude of foster sisters I had growing up,” Roy mused, feigning confusion as he finally shucked his coat and allowed Hawkeye to take it from him. “More than once, in fact. Boy troubles are practically my specialty at this point.”

“Excellent, I could use a male perspective,” she replied, grabbing his arm and half-dragging him over to the couch.

Hawkeye disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a tray containing a massive bowl of stew and a hunk of crusty bread, along with a third wine glass, which Rebecca filled generously before topping off her own and Riza’s.

“No dessert until you eat your supper,” Riza said primly, arranging the other items in front of him, and Mustang beamed up at her.

“That is not a hardship, I assure you,” he said, and dug in with enthusiasm. He only barely managed to stifle an obscene groan when the first spoonful passed his lips –merciful god, he’d missed Hawkeye’s cooking.

He glanced up at Catalina, who had curled herself into the opposite corner of the sofa. Her expression had softened as she watched him, and Mustang let himself relax just a bit more.

“So? You mentioned boy troubles? Are we talking about one we want that won’t be had, or one we don’t want that refuses to take the hint?” he asked her.

“Please, as if anyone could resist all of THIS,” Rebecca sassed, gesturing at herself. “Also, my best friend is pretty handy with a gun, so scaring them off when they’re not wanted isn’t _too_ terribly difficult.”

“Is this about the one you’ve been seeing these off and on these past few weeks, then? Victor something?” Hawkeye asked, gracefully sinking down to settle on the floor in front of Rebecca.

 Mustang started to frown - there was still plenty of room on the couch, and he could move over if she wasn’t comfortable sitting so close to him - but then Catalina made a delighted noise and reached out to bury her hands in Riza’s hair.

 Mustang watched for a moment, bemused, as Catalina set about finger-combing and sectioning out the long blonde strands.

“Well this is somewhat surreal,” he noted, unable to tear his eyes away from the intricate braid that was rapidly forming in Catalina’s sure hands.

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll do yours next,” Rebecca promised, and Roy choked on a laugh.

“Play your cards right and _I’ll_ do _yours_ next,” he retorted, and Rebecca grinned over at him. “All right, out with it. What did this guy do that’s so terrible?” he asked, turning back to his stew.

“Well, that’s just it,” Rebecca hesitated, frowning down at the plait between her fingers. “I don’t know if I’m being irrational about this - not a word, mister,” she said in a warning tone. Mustang, who had been happily shoveling stew in his mouth, paused to shoot her a wounded look.

“Hey, I’m reserving judgement until I’ve heard the evidence,” he said. “Quit stalling!”

Hawkeye chuckled softly from her place at Rebecca’s feet.

“Just tell us what happened, Catalina, and save the scolding for when he’s actually said something that deserves it,” she suggested.

“Okay, fine, fair point,” her friend huffed. “All right, so I started seeing this guy about…two months ago? Thereabouts? And he’s been great! He’s charming and funny, and really sweet! I was starting to think things might be taking a turn for the serious, you know? That maybe we had a future…”

She went on to describe a date from a few evenings prior, which had not ended well. The man in question, Victor, had wanted to take her out to a new, exclusive restaurant that had opened recently. Catalina, who had been exhausted from a rather difficult day at work, had tried to beg off or reschedule for another night. Victor had gotten upset and claimed she obviously didn’t really have feelings for him, and that she was selfish for never being willing to do the things _he_ wanted to do. Catalina, baffled, had retorted that they nearly always did the things he wanted to do, and he’d ended up leaving in a huff. She had been expecting him to call and apologize once he had cooled off a bit, but...he hadn’t. And now she was wondering whether she’d been in the wrong after all.

As she told her story, Rebecca gradually stopped playing with Riza’s hair, her hand gestures growing more and more expressive. Meanwhile, Roy quietly ate his meal and made a healthy dent in the wine. Once he’d finished, he made a show of fastidiously wiping the crumbs from his hands before smirking and gesturing to the space at his feet. Without missing a beat, Rebecca slid off the couch and ostentatiously flipped her hair into his lap. Roy chuckled and accepted the brush Hawkeye passed to him just as Rebecca came to the end of her story.

“So now he thinks I don’t feel as strongly for him as he does for me, and I don’t know what to do,” she finished, as Roy carefully tugged the brush through her soft curls.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” he snorted. Rebecca bristled, defensive, and pulled away.

“You think he was right? I should’ve sucked it up and just gone?” she asked.

“ _No_ , that’s not what I’m saying at all,” he said, gently tugging her back into place and resuming his work. “I meant it’s bullshit that he pulled the ‘if you loved me, then you’d have done this one thing for my sake’ card,” he explained. “It’s not exactly fair, especially considering the brief length of your relationship.”

Having taken over Rebecca’s vacated spot on the couch, Riza pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“Also, you could turn that right back around on him,” she pointed out. “As in, if he loved _you_ , then he would respect your desire to stay home this once, rather than kick up such a fuss about going out.”

“Exactly!” Roy agreed, pointing to Riza with the brush. “He could’ve easily postponed it. Just because you weren’t up for it that one night doesn’t mean you’d never want to go.”

“But...he’d made reservations, so of course he was disappointed,” Rebecca found herself taking his side of the argument.

“Okay, sure, so he’s disappointed,” Roy agreed. “He really wanted to go to this place, and he’d made plans and all, and then you weren’t as enthused as he’d been hoping. But that’s no reason to pitch a hissy fit,” he scoffed. “He’s acting like he cares more about the restaurant than he does about you.”

“You think so?” Rebecca asked, as Riza nodded slowly.

“If he cared about _you_ , then all that should matter to him is being able to spend time together with you,” Roy said. “Where you ate or which club you went dancing at or what movie you saw or what have you - none of those details would really matter. The entertainment itself is incidental. The important part is that _you’d_ be there to share it with him.”

“Huh. I guess…I never thought of it like that,” Rebecca mused.

“‘Provided I were with you, I shouldn’t _greatly_ mind being deaf, dumb, halt, blind and imbecile, afflicted with shingles and whooping-cough, in an open boat without clothes or food, with a thunderstorm coming on,’” Riza quoted softly, almost to herself. Roy grinned over at her.

“Precisely! Is that from one of Vane’s?”

“Her latest,” Riza replied, smiling softly. “My point being, leaving aside the fact that one oughtn’t to emotionally blackmail his or her significant other in the first place, this Victor person isn’t behaving much like a man in love. He’s not taking you into account at _all_ , Catalina.”

“Right,” Roy agreed. “When you told him you were too tired to go out, he might have offered to come to your place instead. Cooked for you; picked something up on the way,” he went on, shrugging slightly. “The man who truly loved you would’ve tried to find some compromise – some other way to spend time with you that took your feelings into consideration. Or he might’ve simply respected your desire to have a night to yourself, supposing that’s what you really wanted. Instead he pitches an epic fit about how you ruined his so-called ‘perfect evening.’”

As Roy listed his examples, Riza had gone very still.

How many times had Mustang invited her to stop and grab a bite to eat, either after work or on their rare breaks, only to defer to her preferences when she asked what he had in mind? _Anywhere you like, so long as I have the pleasure of your company,_ he’d say with a weary smile. How frequently had he coerced her to go out somewhere with him, and occasionally other members of their team? _It’s good for morale,_ he’d insist, winking. _We’ve been so busy we’ve barely spoken to each other all day. Just for a little while. Just for one drink._

And how often had she agreed simply because she wanted to stay by his side for just that tiny bit longer?

At their feet, Rebecca’s mind was running down a similar track. Here Mustang sat, braiding Catalina’s hair and listening to her whine about her latest boyfriend troubles, all for the sake of sharing in some small part of Riza’s attention. Just to be near her for a little while. And then there was Riza, whose face had lit up when she’d realized her unexpected visitor was calling for personal reasons, not work-related ones. For heaven’s sake, she’d even made a double batch of Mustang’s favorite stew, intending to take leftovers into work the following day as a surprise! God, these two were killing her.

“So, if Victor always makes a big deal over the _places_ we go together,” Rebecca said slowly, half-unwilling to change the subject back to herself, but knowing that the silence would quickly turn awkward if she didn’t speak. “Then…what does that mean?”

“He’s never willing to have a quiet night in? Just relax and do nothing in particular with you?” Roy asked. Rebecca shook her head.

“No, now that you mention it,” she murmured. “We always go out somewhere nice. It’s never take-out on the couch or even just staying home and cooking for each other. Nothing casual like that.”

“Then that says to me that he’s not into _you_ so much as he’s into the idea of having a pretty woman on his arm, as an accessory to be shown off to the right crowd,” Roy said. “Perhaps he’s never stopped to consider the fact that you have thoughts and feelings of your own. Ones that have nothing to do with him.”

“Like wanting to stay in after a bad day?”

“Sure. Or what about your general likes and dislikes, and things like that? Your hobbies and ambitions? Do you ever talk about those?”

“N-no,” Rebecca said slowly. “He…we usually end up talking about him. God, I didn’t even notice,” she said, as comprehension dawned. “He never actually _asks_ about me; I just end up volunteering information!”

“In all likelihood, he’s not even conscious that he’s doing it, but regardless,” Roy shrugged. “That’s just not how you treat the woman you love.”

“The woman you love, huh?” she echoed softly, stealing a glance at Riza, who was still frozen with her wine glass halfway to her lips. Oblivious, Roy nodded, deftly twisting another piece of Rebecca’s dark hair into place.

“Based on his reaction to that cancelled date, I’m afraid I’d have to say he attaches more importance to appearances than to you as an individual with needs and desires all your own. But don’t take it too much to heart, Sergeant,” Roy added, with unusual gentleness. He tucked another piece of hair into place and smoothed a hand over the nearly completed braid; a comforting almost-caress. Rebecca leaned into it a little and sighed.

“Ugh, I should have known something was off about him,” she said sadly. “You know, he doesn’t even like potatoes? Any kind of potato. And he’s not allergic or anything; I asked.”

“What, not even mashed? Or au gratin? Roasted?” Roy asked, incredulous.

“Nope. None at all. Not even hash browns! Not even home fries!”

“What kind of monster doesn’t like fries?”

“Right? I should have known, right then!” Rebecca sighed and deflated a bit. “I feel so stupid,” she admitted softly.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Catalina,” Roy said, gruffly. “You didn’t see it. And now you do. And you can _easily_ do better than a thoughtless, potato-hating pig like that.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca replied, her voice still low. “It’s nice to have confirmation that I’m not being the irrational one, for once.”

“Not at all,” he said, trying off his masterpiece with a little flourish. “There! All done!” he added, more cheerfully. “What do you think, Hawkeye?”

Dragged away from the tumult of her thoughts, Riza started and then flushed when both of her guests turned to look at her expectantly.

Amazing, really, how often Mustang’s bright smile reduced her to the awkward fourteen-year-old girl she’d been when they first met.

“You always manage to surprise me, sir,” she finally said.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to GSTW, whose cheerful and enthusiastic crashing of his wife's girls' nights inspired the heart of this fic. Hawkeye is quoting a passage from "A Busman's Honeymoon" by Dorothy Sayers, which is part of her Lord Peter Wimsey series


End file.
